


Light in the dark

by TheMagicMeep



Series: Harry Potter AU [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Background Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicMeep/pseuds/TheMagicMeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair returns from an order mission gone wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light in the dark

Francis is no stranger to waiting late into the night, watching as the shadows grow longer and finally claim the room entire. He does not turn the lights on, even as the darkness grows too deep for him to keep reading. Still Blair does not return and the fireplace remains stubbornly empty.

 _Work for the order_ Dumbledore had said, but Francis knows well that _work for the order_ was what got people killed or _worse_. So he waits, and waits until he is forced to get up and pace for lack of anything else to do.

He always fears the worst, to many others have died for him to remain ever hopeful. Francis himself is part of the order and he knows that Blair must worry over him when he’s away, but really he is not nearly at the same risk as she is. Blair Kirkland is one of Dumbledore’s staunchest and richest supporters, one who happens to be from one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain and who wields more influence than the Dark Lord is entirely happy with.

She may as well paint a giant target on her back.

But now is alone with only the maddening tick of the clock for comfort and the icy hand of dread clenched cruelly tight about his heart.

Finally the door slams open, Francis jumps and wheels about, one hand going to the handle of his wand and a particularly nasty hex on the tip of his tongue.   

However it is Blair who staggers through the door, her hair fallen free of its tie and her eyes shadowed. To his experienced eye she looks exhausted and he picks up on every little wince as she moves past him to collapse ungracefully into a chair with a low groan.   

“How did it go?” he asks cautiously breaking the uncharacteristic silence, Francis watches as Blair’s shoulders slump even further with no small measure of alarm and when her answer eventually comes it is little more than a broken sounding whisper.

“I fucked up”.

Francis makes to move forward but stops himself; this is a side of Blair he has never experienced before and he has no idea what to do. He is used to the brave and brilliant Auror, the studious academic and the proud aristocrat utterly confident with her place in the world. Blair is tough, she is full of that damn Gryffindor foolhardiness and she _never_ breaks down.

But now… now he is almost certain she is crying.

This is what war does Francis thinks bitterly, it destroys people. It takes away that bright little spark in peoples souls and little by little it dulls even the brightest of stars.

He sighs, feeling far older than his years and moves to kneel in front of her; she refuses to look up, but instead hunches over even further and hides her face in her hands. From this distance he can see the tears in her clothes, the burns where a spell had nicked her and the blood from the long ragged gashes across her arms. But it is the tears that have escaped the prison of her hands, flowing down her face and onto her shirt and the way she shakes with barely contained sobs that scare him most.

“Blair” he begins, feeling useless and utterly helpless in the face of her despair “what happened?” She sniffles, wiping her eyes roughly and raising her head a little.

“Albus told us to get Edgar and his family out” she begins in a low monotone looking directly in front of her. It’s the Auror training kicking in, emotions were no good at getting the job done and they all were taught to report the facts and to deal with anything thrown at them without breaking down. Falling apart could be done at a later date, when an Auror was alone and could weep into a comforting shoulder, whisky glass or pillow.

“Edgar Bones?” Francis askes his heart sinking, he knew Edgar from the order. He was a good wizard and an even better man, Francis could remember being shown pictures of the man’s smiling, happy family and Edgar’s proud beaming face. He felt sick.

Blair nodded shortly, her eyes were wet again and she rubbed at them desperately until Francis grabbed her hands and held them firmly. “We…” she choked her voice breaking “we got there too late and Francis they were only _bairns_ ”.

Francis has lunged forward to drag her into a hug before he even really realises it and for once she doesn’t fight him, she just sobs her body heaving in his arms, all he can do is rub her back comfortingly and feel his own tears slide unchecked down his face. “It’s not your fault” he murmurs into her hair “this was never your fault”.

“I should have been faster” she replies quietly, “dammit the death eaters were still _there_!”

 “You know Edgar wouldn’t have blamed any of you for this and he would hate to see you cry over him” Francis soothes.

Blair hiccups, quietly muttering “he said that I was a proper little wildcat once” but her laugh is far too quiet and sad and her fingers still clutch tightly at his shoulders “I hate this damned war”.

“So do I” Francis sighs “but we must fight on _oui?_ For them”

“Aye, for them” Blair agrees, pulling away a little and wincing “At least I took a couple of the bastards down” she says after a moment, with vindictive light in her wet eyes “and gave old Trixie a black eye too”.

Francis manages a small chuckle “I don’t doubt it. Now may I look at these wounds of yours?”

Blair looks at him blankly for a moment “ohh yeah”, she holds out her tattered arms and allows a lopsided smile when Francis swears in horror, “don’t worry, it’s just some minor slashing curse” she gives a disdainful snort “Voldemort is really scraping the bottle of the barrel with his followers now”.

“One of them got you” Francis points out “and I think unless we get this to the hospital or to Poppy this will scar”.

Blair only casts a dispassionate look over the cuts, “they’re hardly life threatening and he was aiming for my _face_ ”. He growls low in his throat and Blair strokes his cheek softly “hey I’m still alive ain’t I?”

“ _Oui, oui_ for now” the Frenchman finds himself hissing “what about if one day you don’t come back? What if I wait and wait and you never come back? What then?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes when she replies “carry on with your life, don’t mourn me. There are worse things to die for than stopping the dark lord after all”.

Francis snorts shaking his head and sending blond curls flying around his face “what if it was the other way around?” he asks “could you just carry on with your life?”

Blair searches his face for a second “no” she admits “no I couldn’t”.

“We can promise that if we can we will always come back” Francis states firmly taking her hand and squeezing it “and if we cannot then… then we will wait wherever we are”

Blair looks at their intertwined fingers and smiles tiredly “fair enough, but let’s not let it come to that eh?”

He raises her hand to his face to press a kiss against it “we have a deal then”

“Aye, I guess we do” there is a measure of her old fire back in Blair’s eyes when he looks at her and despite the oppressive darkness seeming to be closing in ever closer around them Francis feels a flicker of hope stir in his heart.

Voldemort may have taken his friends and his family but he’d be _damned_ if he’d take this too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is already (baring a few tiny edits) posted on my writing blog on tumblr but I think I'll cross post it here as it's easier to keep track of the series here and it's hopefully going to be a lot bigger before I am finished with it. 
> 
> This is set at somepoint during the first war with Voldemort and Edgar Bones and his family as far as I can tell were actually killed by death eaters in canon Harry Potter.
> 
> Also just to be safe I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia.


End file.
